2275 


Hervieu 
Modesty 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Modesty  :  a  Comedy  in 
One  Act :  by  Paul  Her- 
/ieu :  Translated  by 
Barrett  H.  Clark 


Samuel  French:  Publisher 

25  West  Forty-fifth    Street  :     New  York 
Samuel  French,  Ltd. 

26  SOUTHAMPTON  STREET,  STRAND 

LONDON 
PRICE  35  CENTS 


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BY  BARRETT  H.  CLARK 


Modesty  :  a  Comedy  in 
One  Act :  by  Paul  Her- 
vieu :  Translated  by 
Barrett  H.  Clark 


Samuel  French:  Publisher 

25  West   Forty-fifth    Street  :      New  York 

Samuel  French,  Ltd. 

26  SOUTHAMPTON  STREET,  STRAND 
LONDON 


PAUL  HERVIEU. 

Paul  Hervieu  (born  in  1857  at  Neuilly-on-the- 
Seine)  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  contemporary  French 
dramatists.  His  plays  are  thesis  plays  of  the  most 
pronounced  type,  aimed  for  the  most  part  against 
legal  and  social  abuses.  Hervieu  is  noted  for  his 
reticent  and  sober  treatment  of  tragedy,  but  his 
little  one-act  play,  "Modesty,"  proves  that  he  has  a 
delicate  sense  of  humor  and  the  ability  to  satirize 
in  a  light  and  graceful  way  some  of  the  weaker  ele- 
ments of  human  nature. 


This  little  play  contains  no  difficulties  as  to  stag- 
ing, costuming,  or  stage  "business." 


1C99640 
$ 


PERSONS  IN  THE  PLAY 

HENRIETTE. 

JACQUES. 

ALBERT. 

SCENE  :     A  drawing-room, 
TIME:     The  present. 


Modesty 


SCENE:  A  drawing-room.  Entrance  c. ;  sofa, 
chairs,  writing-desk.  JACQUES  and  HENRIETTE 
enter  c.,  from  dinner.  HENRIETTE  in  ball  cos- 
tume, JACQUES  in  evening  dress.  They  come 
down  c. 

HENRIETTE.  What  is  it?  Is  it  so  terribly  em- 
barrassing ? 

JACQUES.    You  can  easily  guess. 

HENRIETTE.  You're  so  long-winded.  You  make 
me  weary — come  to  the  point. 

JACQUES.     I'll  risk  all  at  a  stroke My  dear 

Henriette,  we  are  cousins.    I  am  unmarried,  you — 
a  widow.    Will  you — will  you  be  my  wife? 

HENRIETTE.  Oh,  my  dear  Jacques,  what  are  you 
thinking  of?  We  were  such  good  friends!  And 
now  you're  going  to  be  angry. 

JACQUES.    Why  ? 

HENRIETTE.  Because  I'm  not  going  to  give  you 
the  sort  of  answer  you'd  like. 

JACQUES.  You  don't — you  don't  think  I'd  make 
a  good  husband? 

HENRIETTE.     Frankly,  no. 

JACQUES.     I  don't  please  you  ? 

HENRIETTE.  As  a  cousin  you  are  charming ;  as  a 
husband  you  would  be  quite  impossible. 

JACQUES.    What  have  you  against  me? 
5 


6  MODESTY 

HEN.RIETTE.  Nothing  that  you're  to  blame  for. 
It  is  merely  the  fault  of  my  character;  that  forces 
me  to  refuse  you. 

JACQUES.     But  I  can't  see  why  you ? 

HENRIETTE.  (With  an  air  of  great  importance) 
A  great  change  is  taking  place  in  the  hearts  of  us 
women.  We  have  resolved  henceforward  not  to  be 
treated  as  dolls,  but  as  creatures  of  reason.  As  for 
me,  I  am  most  unfortunate,  for  nobody  ever  did 
anything  but  flatter  me.  I  have  always  been  too 
self-satisfied,  too 

JACQUES.  You  have  always  been  the  most  charm- 
ing of  women,  the  most 

HENRIETTE.  Stop!  It's  exactly  that  sort  of  ex- 
ageration  that's  begun  to  make  me  so  unsure  of 
myself.  I  want  you  to  understand  once  for  all, 
Jacques ;  I  have  a  conscience,  and,  furthermore,  it  is 
beginning  to  develop.  I  have  taken  some  important 
resolutions. 

JACQUES.    What  do  you  mean? 

HENRIETTE.  I  have  resolved  to  better  myself,  to 
raise  my  moral  and  intellectual  standards,  and  to  do 
that  I  must  be  guided,  criticized 

JACQUES.  But  you  already  possess  every  im- 
aginable quality:  you  are  charitable,  cultured,  re- 
fined  

HENRIETTE.  (Annoyed)  Please!  (Turns  away 
and  sits  on  settee.  JACQUES  addresses  her  from  be- 
hind chair) 

JACQUES.     You  are  discreet,  witty 

HENRIETTE.  The  same  old  compliments !  Every- 
body tells  me  that.  I  want  to  be  preached  to,  con- 
tradicted, scolded 

JACQUES.     You  could  never  stand  that. 

HENRIETTE.  Yes,  I  could.  I  should  be  happy  to 
profit  by  the  criticism.  It  would  inspire  me. 

JACQUES.  I'd  like  to  see  the  man  who  has  the 
audacity  to  criticize  you  to  your  face — 


MODESTY  7 

HENRIETTE.  That  is  enough!  I  trust  you  are 
aware  that  you  are  not  the  person  fit  to  exercise  this 
influence  over  me? 

JACQUES.  How  could  I?  Everything  about  you 
pleases  me.  It  can  never  be  otherwise. 

HENRIETTE.  How  interesting!  That's  the  very- 
reason  I  rejected  your  proposal.  I  sha'n't  marry 
until  I  am  certain  that  I  shall  not  be  continually 
pestered  with  compliments  and  flattery  and  submis- 
sion. The  man  who  marries  me  shall  make  it  his 
business  to  remind  me  of  my  shortcomings,  to  cor- 
rect all  my  mistakes.  He  must  give  me  the  assur- 
ance that  I  am  continually  bettering  myself. 

JACQUES.  And  this — husband — have  you  found 
him  already? 

HENRIETTE.     What ?    Oh,  who  knows? 

JACQUES.     Perhaps  it's — Albert? 

HENRIETTE.     Perhaps  it  is — what  of  it? 

JACQUES.     Really ! 

HENRIETTE.     You  want  me  to  speak  frankly? 

JACQUES.     Of  course. 

HENRIETTE.  Then — you  wouldn't  be  annoyed  if 
I  said  something  nice  about  Albert  ? 

f JACQUES  brings  down  c.  chair  which  is  by  desk, 
facing  HENRIETTE.  ) 

JACQUES.     Why,  he's  your  friend ! 

HENRIETTE.  Oh!  So  you,  too,  have  a  good 
opinion  of  him? 

JACQUES.     Certainly. 

HENRIETTE.     Well,  what  would  you  say  of  him? 

JACQUES.  (Trying  to  be  fair)  I'd  trust  him  with 
money — I've  never  heard  he  was  a  thief. 

HENRIETTE.     But  in  other  ways? 

JACQUES.  (Still  conscientious)  I  believe  him  to 
be  somewhat — somewhat 

HENRIETTE.     Wilful?     Headstrong? 


8  MODESTY 

JACQUES.    Um — uncultured,  let  us  say. 

HENRIETTE.  As  you  like — but  for  my  part,  I 
find  that  that  air  of  his  inspires  absolute  confidence. 
He  knows  how  to  be  severe  at  times 

JACQUES.  You're  mistaken  about  that;  that's 
only  simple  brute  force.  Go  to  the  Zoo :  the  ostrich, 
the  boa  constrictor,  the  rhinoceros,  all  produce  the 
same  effect  on  you  as  your  Albert 

HENRIETTE.  My  Albert?  My  Albert?  Oh,  I 
don't  appropriate  him  so  quickly  as  all  that.  His 
qualifications  as  censor  are  not  yet  entirely  demon- 
strated. 

(JACQUES  rises  and   approaches  HENRIETTE,  who 
maintains  an  air  of  cold  dignity.) 

JACQUES.  For  Heaven's  sake,  Henriette,  stop  this 
nonsense ! 

HENRIETTE.     What  nonsense? 

JACQUES.  Tell  me  you  are  only  playing  with 
me.  That  you  only  wanted  to  put  my  love  to  the 
test!  To  make  me  jealous!  To  torture  me!  You 
have  succeeded.  Stop  it,  for  Heaven's  sake 

HENRIETTE.  My  dear  friend,  I'm  very  sorry  for 
you.  I  wish  I  could  help  you,  but  I  cannot.  I  have 
given  you  a  perfect  description  of  the  husband  I 
want,  and  I  am  heart-broken  that  you  bear  so  re- 
mote a  resemblance  to  him. 

JACQUES.  Only  promise  you  will  think  over  your 
decision. 

HENRIETTE.     It  is  better  to  stop  right  now. 

JACQUES.  Don't  send  me  away  like  this. 
Don't 

HENRIETTE.  I  might  give  you  false  hopes.  I 
have  only  to  tell  you  that  I  shall  never  consent  to 
be  the  wife  of  a  man  who  cannot  be  the  severest  of 
censors. 

JACQUES.     (Kneeling)    I  beg  you! 


MODESTY  9 

HENRIETTE.  No,  no,  no,  Jacques !  Spare  me 
that.  (A  telephone  rings  in  the  next  room)  There's 
the  'phone 

JACQUES.     Don't  go! 

(HENRIETTE  rises  hastily  and  goes  to  door.  JACQUES 
tries  for  a  moment  to  stop  her.) 

HENRIETTE.  I  must  go.  Go  away,  I  tell  you.  I'll 
be  furious  if  I  find  you  here  when  I  come  back. 

JACQUES.     Henriette ! 

HENRIETTE.  (Coming  down  L.  to  table)  Not 
now !  Please,  Jacques.  (Exit) 

JACQUES.  I  can't  leave  it  that  way.  I  am  the 
husband  who  will  make  her  happy.  But  how?  That 
is  the  question. — (Pause)  Ah,  Albert ! 

(Enter  ALBERT.    He  shakes  hands  with  JACQUES. ) 

ALBERT.     How  are  you,  rival? 

JACQUES.  (Gravely)  My  friend,  we  are  no 
longer  rivals. 

ALBERT.     How's  that? 

JACQUES.  I  have  just  had  a  talk  with  Henriette ; 
she  refuses  to  marry  either  one  of  us. 

ALBERT.     Did  she  mention  me? 

JACQUES.     Casually. 

(Both  sit  down:  ALBERT  on  sofa,  JACQUES  on  chair 
near  it.) 

ALBERT.     What  did  she  say? 

JACQUES.  Oh,  I  wouldn't  repeat  it;  it  wouldn't 
be  friendly. 

ALBERT.     I  must  know. 

JACQUES.  Very  well,  then — she  said  that  you  had 
not  succeeded — nor  had  I — to  find  the  way  to  her 
heart.  Between  you  and  me,  we've  got  a  high- 


io  MODESTY 

minded  woman  to  deal  with,  a  philosopher  who  de- 
tests flattery.  It  seems  you  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  paying  her  compliments 

ALBERT.     I  never  pay  compliments. 

JACQUES.  Whatever  you  did,  she  didn't  like  it. 
Moreover — -since  you  want  the  whole  truth — you 
seem  to  her  a  bit — ridiculous. 

ALBERT.     Pardon? 

JACQUES.  The  very  word :  ridiculous.  She  wants 
a  husband  who  will  act  as  a  sort  of  conscience  pilot. 
Evidently,  you  haven't  appealed  to  her  in  that  ca- 
pacity. 

ALBERT.  Sometimes  I  used  to  be  rather  sharp 
with  her 

JACQUES.  You  did  it  too  daintily,  perhaps ;  you 
lacked  severity.  I'll  wager  you  smiled,  instead  of 
scowled — that  would  have  been  fatal ! 

ALBERT.     I  don't  understand. 

JACQUES.  Henriette  is  a  singular  woman ;  to  get 
her,  you  have  to  tell  her  that  you  don't  like  her — her 
pride  demands  it.  Tell  her  all  her  bad  qualities, 
straight  from  the  shoulder. 

ALBERT.  (Feeling  himself  equal  to  the  task) 
Don't  worry  about  that!  (Rises  and  walks  about) 
I  know  women  love  to  be  told  things  straight  out. 

JACQUES.  I'm  not  the  man  for  that ;  nor  are  you, 
I  suppose? 

ALBERT.  No? — Jacques,  I'm  awfully  obliged  to 
you ;  you've  done  me  a  good  turn 

JACQUES.     Don't  mention  it 

ALBERT.     You  want  to  do  me  one  more  favor? 

JACQUES.     (Devotedly)    Anything  you  like! 

ALBERT.  Promise  me  you'll  never  let  Henriette 
know  that  you  told  me  this  ? 

JACQUES.     I  promise;  but  why? 

ALBERT.  You  know  she  has  to  understand  that 
my  behavior  toward  her  is  in  character.  Natural, 
you  see. 


MODESTY  ii 

JACQUES.     Oh,  you're  going  at  it  strenuously. 

ALBERT.     I  am. 

JACQUES.     Your  decision  honors  you. 

ALBERT.  Let's  not  have  Henriette  find  us  to- 
gether. Would  you  mind  disappearing? 

JACQUES.  With  pleasure.  I'll  look  in  later  and 
get  the  news. 

(JACQUES  rises.) 

ALBERT.     Thanks,  Jacques. 

JACQUES.  Good-bye,  Albert.  (Exits  after  shak- 
ing hands  cordially  with  ALBERT  j 

HENRIETTE.  (Re-entering  as  ALBERT  assumes  a 
rather  severe  attitude)  How  are  you?  (Pause) 
Have  you  seen  Jacques? 

ALBERT.  (With  a  determined  air)  No,  Henri- 
ette. Thank  God ! 

HENRIETTE.     Why  ? 

ALBERT.  Because  it  pains  me  to  see  men  in  your 
presence  whom  you  care  nothing  for. 

HENRIETTE.  (Delighted)  You  don't  like  that? 
(Sitting  down  on  sofa) 

ALBERT.  No,  I  don't.  And  I'd  like  to  tell 
you 

HENRIETTE.     About  my  relations  with  Jacques? 

ALBERT.     Oh,  he's  not  the  only  one. 

HENRIETTE.     Heaps  of  others,  I  suppose? 

ALBERT.  (Sits  on  chair  near  sofa)  You  suppose 
correctly ;  heaps. 

HENRIETTE.     Really? 

ALBERT.     You  are  a  coquette. 

HENRIETTE.     You  think  so? 

ALBERT.     I  am  positive. 

HENRIETTE.  I  suppose  I  displease  you  in  other 
ways,  too  ? 

ALBERT.     In  a  great  many  other  ways. 


12  MODESTY 

HENRIETTE.  (Really  delighted)  How  confident- 
ly you  say  that ! 

ALBERT.     So  much  the  worse  if  you  don't  like  it ! 

HENRIETTE.  Quite  the  contrary,  my  dear  Albert ; 
you  can't  imagine  how  you  please  me  when  you  talk 
like  that. — It's  perfectly  adorable. 

ALBERT.  It  makes  very  little  difference  to  me 
whether  I  please  you  or  not.  I  speak  according  to 
my  temperament.  Perhaps  it  is  a  bit  authoritative, 
but  I  can't  help  that. 

HENRIETTE.     You  are  superb. 

ALBERT.     Oh,  no:  I'm  just  myself. 

HENRIETTE.     Oh,  if  you  were  only  the 

ALBERT.  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea  what  you 
were  about  to  say,  but  I'll  guarantee  that  there's  not 
a  more  inflexible  temper  than  mine  in  Paris. 

HENRIETTE.  I  can  easily  believe  it.  (Pause) 
Now  tell  me  in  what  way  you  think  I'm  coquettish. 
(Sitting  on  edge  of  sofa  in  an  interested  attitude. 
ALBERT  takes  out  cigarette,  lights  and  smokes  it) 

ALBERT.  That's  easy ;  for  instance,  when  you  go 
to  the  theater,  to  a  reception,  to  the  races.  As  soon 
as  you  arrive,  the  men  flock  about  in  dozens ;  those 
who  don'1;  know  you  come  to  be  introduced.  You're 
the  talking-stock  of  society.  Now  I  should  be 
greatly  obliged  if  you  would  tell  me  to  what  you 
attribute  this  notoriety? 

HENRIETTE.  (Modestly)  Well,  I  should  attrib- 
ute it  to  the  fact  that  I  am — agreeable,  and  pleas- 
ant  

ALBERT.     There  are  many  women  no  less  so. 

Henriette.  (Summoning  up  all  her  modesty  to 
reply)  You  force  me  to  recognize  the  fact 

ALBERT.  And  I  know  many  women  fully  as 
pleasant  as  you  who  don't  flaunt  their  favors  in  the 
face  of  everybody ;  they  preserve  some  semblance 
of  dignity,  a  certain  air  of  aloof  distinction  that  it 
would  do  you  no  harm  to  acquire. 


MODESTY  13 

HENRIETTE.  (With  a  gratitude  that  is  conscious 
of  its  bounds)  Thanks,  thanks  so  much.  (Drawing 
back  to  a  corner  of  the  sofa)  I  am  deeply  obliged 
to  you 

ALBERT.     Not  at  all. 

HENRIETTE.  In  the  future,  I  shall  try  to  behave 
more  decorously. 

ALBERT.    Another  thing 

HENRIETTE.  (The  first  signs  of  impatience  begin 
to  appear)  What  ?  Another  thing  to  criticize  ? 

ALBERT.  A  thousand!  (Settling  himself  com- 
fortably) 

HENRIETTE.     Well,  hurry  up. 

ALBERT.  You  must  rid  yourself  of  your  exces- 
sive and  ridiculous  school-girl  sentimentality. 

HENRIETTE.  I  wonder  just  on  what  you  base 
your  statement.  Would  you  oblige  me  so  far  as  to 
explain  that? 

ALBERT.  With  pleasure.  I  remember  one  day  in 
the  country  you  were  in  tears  because  a  poor  little 
mouse  had  fallen  into  the  claws  of  a  -wretched  cat; 
two  minutes  later,  you  were  sobbing  because  the 
poor  cat  choked  in  swallowing  the  -wretched  little 
mouse. 

HENRIETTE.  That  was  only  my  kindness  to  dumb 
animals.  Is  it  wrong  to  be  kind  to  dumb  animals? 
(She  is  about  to  rise  when  ALBERT  stops  her  -with  a 
gesture) 

ALBERT.  That  would  be  of  no  consequence,  if 
it  weren't  that  you  were  of  so  contradictory  a  nature 
that  you  engage  in  the  emptiest,  most  frivolous  con- 
versations, the  most 

HENRIETTE.  (Slightly  disdainful)  Ah,  you  are 
going  too  far !  You  make  me  doubt  your  power  of 
analysis.  I  am  interested  only  in  noble  and  high 
things 

ALBERT.     And  yet  as  soon  as  the  conversation 


14  MODESTY 

takes  a  serious  turn,  it's  appalling  to  see  you;  you 
yawn  and  look  bored  to  extinction. 

HENRIETTE.     There  you  are  right — partly. 

ALBERT.     You  see! 

HENRIETTE.  (Sharp  and  even  antagonistic)  Yes, 
I  have  that  unfortunate  gift  of  understanding  things 
before  people  have  finished  explaining  them.  While 
the  others  are  waiting  for  the  explanation,  I  can't 
wait,  and  I  fly  on  miles  ahead 

ALBERT.  Hm — that  sounds  probable;  I  sha'n't 
say  anything  more  about  that  just  now.  But  while 
I'm  on  the  subject,  I  have  more  than  once  noticed 
that  you  are  guilty  of  the  worst  vice  woman  ever 
possessed 

HENRIETTE.    And  what,  if  you  please? 

ALBERT.    Vanity. 

HENRIETTE.     I,  vain  ?    Oh,  you're  going  too  far ! 

ALBERT.  (Unruffled)  Not  a  word !  Every  time 
I  tell  you  a  fault,  you  twist  it  round  to  your  own 
advantage.  Whereas,  you  are  really  worse 

HENRIETTE.  (Rising  and  gathering  her  skirts 
about  her  with  virtuous  indignation)  You  are 
rude !  I  suppose  you  would  find  fault  with  me  if  I 
considered  myself  more  polite  than  the  person  whom 
I  have  the  honor  to  address? 

ALBERT.  I  hope  you  don't  intend  that  remark  as 
personal  ? 

HENRIETTE.  I  certainly  do.  (She  crosses  to  the 
other  side  of  the  stage,  and  sits  down.  ALBERT  rises 
and  goes  up  to  her) 

ALBERT.  Henriette!  No!  (Laughing)  I  see 
your  trick! 

HENRIETTE.     What  do  you  mean  ? 

ALBERT.  You  can't  deceive  me  by  pretending 
to  be  angry.  You  wanted  to  see  whether  I  could 
withstand  your  temper.  Let  us  now  proceed  to  the 
next  chapter:  your  manner  of  dressing. 

HENRIETTE.     (Now  really  outraged)    My  man- 


MODESTY  15 

ner  of  dressing?  You  dare!  (HENRIETTE  crosses 
L.  Front,  ALBERT  following  her) 

ALBERT.     Yes,  that  will  be  enough  for  to-day 

HENRIETTE,  And  then  you'll  begin  again  to- 
morrow ! 

ALBERT.     Yes. 

HENRIETTE.  And  do  you  think  for  one  minute 
that  I'll  listen  to  you  while  you  insult  me  to  my 
face?  You  are  the  vain  one,  to  think  you  can 
come  to  that!  You  are  the  frivolous  one,  you  are 
the 

ALBERT.  (Slightly  perturbed)  Be  careful  what 
you  say ! 

HENRIETTE.  I'll  take  care  of  that. — Let  me  tell 
you  that  you  are  a  detestable  cynic.  You  are  dis- 
gustingly personal;  always  dwelling  on  details,  on 
the  least 

ALBERT.     Which  is  as  much  as  calling  me  a  fool  ? 

HENRIETTE.  Just  about.  You  would  be  if  you 
didn't  read  your  morning  paper  regularly;  so  regu- 
larly that  I  know  in  advance  exactly  what  you  are 
going  to  say  to  me  during  the  day. 

ALBERT.     Why  not  call  me  a  parrot? 

HENRIETTE.  That  would  flatter  you,  for  you 
don't  speak  as  well  as  a  parrot ;  a  parrot's  memory 
never  gets  clouded,  a  parrot  has  at  least  the  com- 
mon politeness  to 

ALBERT.  (Between  his  teeth)  I  won't  stand  for 
this.  I  wonder  how  you  could  have  endured  me  so 
long  if  you  thought  me  such  a  fool. 

HENRIETTE.     I  believed  you  harmless. 

ALBERT.  Are  you  aware  that  you  have  wounded 
me  cruelly? 

HENRIETTE.  You  have  wounded  me.  Thank 
Heaven,  though,  we  had  this  discussion!  Now  I'll 
know  how  to  conduct  myself  toward  you  in  the 
future. 

ALBERT.     Thank  Heaven  for  the  same  thing!    It 


i6  MODESTY 

was  high  time!  I  grieve  to  think  that  only  last 
night,  I  had  fully  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  you  to  be 
my  wife! 

HENRIETTE.  My  dear  friend,  if  you  ever  do  so, 
I  shall  show  you  the  door  immediately. 

(Enter  JACQUES  hurriedly.    HENRIETTE  runs  to  him 
as  for  protection.) 

JACQUES.  What's  all  this  noise?  What's  the 
matter? 

HENRIETTE.  Oh,  Jacques — I'm  so  glad  you've 
come. 

ALBERT.  Just  in  time!  You  put  an  end  to  our 
pleasant  little  tete-a-tete. 

JACQUES.     But  what's  happened? 

HENRIETTE.     Well,  Monsieur  here 

ALBERT.     No,  it  was  Mademoiselle  who 

('HENRIETTE  and  ALBERT  each  take  an  arm  of 
JACQUES  and  bring  htm  down-stage  c.  His  at- 
tention is  constantly  shifting  from  one  to  the 
other,  as  they  address  him  in  turn.) 

HENRIETTE.     Just  think,  Jacques — • — 

ALBERT.     Jacques,  she  had  the  audacity  to 

HENRIETTE.  Stop!  I'm  going  to  tell  him 
first 

JACQUES.  You're  both  too  excited  to  explain  any- 
thing. Albert,  you  take  a  little  stroll  and  cool  off. 

ALBERT.  (Retreating  toward  the  door) 
Charmed. 

HENRIETTE.     Then  I  can  draw  a  free  breath. 

JACQUES.  (To  ALBERT j  I'll  fix  up  things  while 
you're  away. 

ALBERT.     (To  both)    I  won't  give  in. 

HENRIETTE.     Neither  will  I. 

JACQUES.    Tut,  tut.' 


MODESTY  17 

ALBERT.     Good-day,  Mademoiselle. 

HENRIETTE.    Good-day. 

JACQUES.     Good-day,  Albert.     (Exit  ALBERT  j 

HENRIETTE.     Thank  goodness,  we're  rid  of  him! 

JACQUES.     (Sympathetically)  Tell  me  all  about  it. 

HENRIETTE.  (Sits  down  on  sofa,  inviting  JAC- 
QUES by  a  gesture  to  do  the  same.  He  sits  beside 
her)  That  man  invented  the  most  abominable  thing's 
about  me ;  criticized  me  to  my  face ! 

JACQUES.     He  did! 

HENRIETTE.  It  was  so  ridiculous — makes  me 
sick  to  think  about  it. 

JACQUES.  My  dear  Henriette,  don't  think  about 
it.  Albert  must  have  behaved  like  a  brute  to  make 
you  so  angry. 

HENRIETTE.  Yes,  don't  you  think  so? — You 
think  I'm  right? 

JACQUES.     (Loyally)    Of  course  I  do. 

HENRIETTE.  (At  her  ease  once  more)  You  en- 
courage me,  Jacques. 

JACQUES.  When  I  saw  you  were  angry,  I  said  to 
myself  at  once:  "Henriette  is  right." 

HENRIETTE.     Really  ? 

JACQUES.  I  said  it  because  I  knew  you  were  by 
nature  peace-loving  and  considerate 

HENRIETTE.  (With  profound  conviction)  Well, 
I  think  that's  the  least  that  could  be  said  of  me. 

JACQUES.  In  any  event,  you  are  always  tactful, 
you  always 

HENRIETTE.     You  know  me,  Jacques ! 

JACQUES.  I  flatter  myself.  I  felt  instinctively 
you  couldn't  be  wrong.  You  have  always  been 
so  admirably  poised,  so  unfailingly  considerate. 

HENRIETTE.  (With  perfect  simplicity)  Frankly 
now,  do  I  ever  lose  my  temper  with  you? 

JACQUES.  (In  good  faith)  Never.  With  me  you 
are  always  patient,  gracious,  modest 


NOT  SO  LONG  AGO 

Comedy  in  a  Prologue,  3  acts,  and  Epilogue.  By  Arthttf 
Biehman.  5  males,  7  females.  2  interiors,  1  exterior. 
Costumes,  1876.  Plays  a  full  evening. 

Arthur  Biehman  has  constructed  his  play  around  the  Cinderella 
legend.  The  playwright  has  shown  great  wisdom  in  his  choice 
of  material,  for  he  has  cleverly  crossed  the  Cinderella  theme 
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climber,  who  may  have  been  the  first  of  her  kind,  though  we 
doubt  it.  She  is  interested  sentimentally  in  the  son  of  this  house. 
Her  father,  learning  of  her  infatuation  for  the  young  man  without 
learning  also  that  it  is  imaginary  on  the  young  girl's  part,  starts 
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THE  LOTTERY  MAN 

Comedy  in  3  acts,  by  Bida  Johnson  Young.  4  males, 
5  females.  3  easy  interiors.  Costumes,  modern.  Plays 
2%  hours. 

In  "The  Lottery  Man"  Bida  Johnson  Young  has  seized  upon 
•  custom  of  some  newspapers  to  increase  their  circulation  by 
clever  schemes.  Mrs.  Young  has  made  the  central  figure  in  her 
famous  comedy  a  newspaper  reporter,  Jack  Wright.  Wright  owes 
his  employer  money,  and  he  agrees  to  turn  in  one  of  the  roost 
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THE    WORLD'S    BEST    PLAYS  —  Continued 

A  Marriage  Proposal.  By  Anton  Tchekoff.  2  men,  1  woman.  A 
comedy  in  1  act,  by  one  of  the  greatest  of  modern  Russian  writers. 
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life  of  Bohemian  artists  in  Paris,  written  by  one  of  France's 
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The  Wager.  By  Giuseppe  Giacosa.  4  men,  4  women.  This  one- 
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The  Boor.  By  Anton  Tchekoff.  2  men,  1  woman.  A  well-known 
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